I Just Want To Sleep
by Majuscule Milquetoast
Summary: Tweek's trashes Craig's house, steals his boxers, and wants to talk about balls at four in the morning. Craig just wants to go back to sleep.


I wake up feeling groggy, yawning and smacking my lips together. I scrunch up my nose at the horrible morning breath on my tongue. I stretch and let all my body parts click into place, flicking on my bedside lamp while I'm at it. I let my eyes adjust to the light and glance around the room to see everything perfectly in place, just as I left it.

Wait.

What the hell is that?

At the very edge of my bed lies a boxer-clad body curled up in a fetal position, snoozing blissfully away. In normal circumstances I would be mildly terrified, to say the least. But upon closer inspection I find it to be only Tweek, instead of some child molester. It still doesn't explain why the fuck he's in my bed, though.

I don't even know how he got in here. I was the last one to go to bed last night and I double-checked all the doors were locked. I glance at the window, maybe he got in that way? But besides, my bedroom is on the second story so there's no way he could have gotten up there without some leverage or a ladder. An image of Tweek clambering up the drainpipe outside, Spiderman style, flashes through my mind, and I nearly laugh out loud at the ridiculous thought. I can just ask him; he's literally a foot away. I'm surprised I didn't kick him off the bed or something when I was asleep.

"Tweek," I poke his shoulder. The only answer I get from him is a grumble and a stir. "_Tweek_," I say, a little louder this time. I give him a hard prod. Nothing. My patience is tried and so I whack him over the head with my hand instead. He jerks up, shrieking in shock. I slap a hand over his mouth to silence him. "Shut up, my parents will think I'm killing someone up here," I whisper harshly, his cries muffled in my hand. "And if not, they'll wonder why the fuck there is a dude in my bed," When he finally calms down, I remove my now spit covered hand, wiping it on my pyjama bottoms.

"Sorry, man!" He stumbles over various other apologies and I roll my eyes.

"Why are you even here." I say dryly, feeling too tired to even make my question sound like an actual question.

He squeaks at my unintentionally harsh tone and his hands dart to tangle themselves in his hair; one of his forms of stress relief. I hope I never get so wacked out that I start to pull my fucking hair out to stop stress like Tweek. Although, I don't really get stressed, I never join in in things that I think might be too much to handle and so I'm never faced with difficult situations.

It takes me a moment to realise Tweek is talking again. "-And I never -ngh- sleep!"

"What." I deadpan, laying back down and rubbing my temples. It's too early in the morning to be dealing with jittery coffeeheads like Tweek.

"I said -agh- that the_ gnomes_ came last night and took all of my underwear!" He sprinkles the word 'gnomes' with hatred; he really despises those make believe creatures. I don't think I could ever hate something that I'd made up in my own head as much as Tweek does.

"And what does this exactly have to do with me." I sigh, pulling the covers over my shoulders.

He completely ignores me, continuing with his ramble. "Yeah, so I was like 'Oh no, my underwear!'" He throws his hands in the air to illustrate his point. "And then I was just going to go to sleep, but then I realised…" He pauses for dramatic effect, staring at me eerily. I really don't care what he has to say. "They'd taken the ones off of my body as well!" He exclaims, practically jumping off the bed.

"Fascinating." I drawl sarcastically. He seems to not get my sarcasm, as he animatedly continues his little tale. Sometimes I think Tweek isn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"So, there I was, completely -gah- naked in my bed!" Tweek waves his hands. Lovely fucking image right there. Thanks, Tweek. "And I was just going to go try to go back to sleep, and you know how hard it is for me to get to sleep, right, Craig?"

I make a low _hmm _sound. I'd quite like to go back to sleep too, Tweek.

"Yeah, but then I realised- what if they had molested me!?" He screeches, clutching his crotch area protectively. "So, I thought, maybe they'd given me AIDS! Now there was no way I was going to sleep then, with the -engh- risk of sex contracted diseases at large!" He screams, clutching his poor junk tighter. I kind of wish he didn't do this on my bed. To be honest, I wish he wasn't on my bed at all, and then I could go for a midnight piss and go back to sleep instead, but beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

"I was having a total freak-out about it, but then it hit me!" He bonks himself on the head. "Gnomes can't get AIDS because of their magical powers, so how the hell could I have it! Duh!" He laughs, looking at me like I get what he's talking about, when in reality I just think maybe he needs to ask the doctor for a bump in his medication.

"But still, I had no underwear at all, and there was no way I was sleeping all vulnerable in the nude! Old man rapists, man! _Old man rapists_!" He shrieks, coming up close to my face, his hot coffee scented breath on my cheek. My ear drums hurt. "And there was no way I was going into my parents room to check my Dad's drawers for underwear to borrow again," He shudders. "There's fucked up stuff in that drawer, man," He shakes his head as if clearing a thought and focuses his eyes on me once more. "So, I put on my clothes and thought of the most -rah- logical thing to do; go to your house!"

"Wait, you went all the way over to my house so you could borrow underwear." I look him in the eye to detect the sign of some kind of joke. He can't be fucking serious.

"Yeah!" He chirps.

"You're wearing my boxers." I deadpan.

"Oh, yeah, hope you don't mind!" I stare at him blankly. What the fuck. You don't just come into people's houses and walk around wearing their boxers without asking. "Also, if you're wondering how I got in…" He twiddles his thumbs. "I may have -ngh- broken the window on your door…" He gives me a nervous toothy grin like a little kid in trouble. "I punched it in a moment of panic when I realised the door was -gah- locked and the glass went everywhere," He shrugs bashfully. "And my hand was all covered in blood, see," He holds up his right hand, a bandage crudely wrapped around it. "So, I went through your cabinets in the bathroom and I may have knocked a bunch of Paracetamol tablets in the toilet by –grgh- accident; I'll get that later."

I don't want to know what the hell else he's done.

"Oh, and I went to get coffee 'cause I was -ack- kind of thirsty, but it was really dark and I couldn't see the light switch and the blood loss made me drowsy so I just grabbed any old thing and mixed it together and hoped for the best, but I think it was like mustard and salt so I threw up on the floor but then I found the light and I made my coffee and I was gonna clean everything up, I swear!" He mutters quickly, holding up his hands in defence. "_But_, I came upstairs and got a pair of your boxers from your drawer… Also why are there condoms and lube at the back? You don't even have a girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever, do you just keep them in there for luck or something?" He looks at me for an answer.

I kind of just want to curl up and die. I might as well; my parents are going to kill me anyway, once they wake up to the mess Tweek has made that I'll undoubtedly get the blame for. He's like a one man demolition company, it's ridiculous. Also he found my fucking secret stash. It may come as a surprise to you, but Craig motherfucking Tucker is in fact a virgin. But, you know, it doesn't hurt to keep some just in case, right? Aw, fuck it. I'm pathetic, I know.

He continues when he realises I'm not going to give him an answer. "And by the way, these boxers are really roomy!" Tweek chirps, shaking his hips and ultimately, his junk. Just… _Why_. "Your balls must be _huge_!" He spreads his hands out in the air in a groping action. "Mine are like…" He squints his eyes in momentary thought. "Kinda small, but that's –gah- ok, I guess!" He grins.

I don't want to have a discussion with Tweek about our balls. Why does this guy have no sense of shame? "Uh, so why were you sleeping on my bed." I quickly attempt to change the subject.

"Oh yeah! Well, I put on the boxers and then I was really tired!" Yeah, you would be, after all the destroying you've done. "And I didn't wanna wake you up because you looked really -rrgh- peaceful, so I just curled up on the end of your bed like a cat or something and I was out like a light! That never happens!" He exclaims like it's a miracle. "I'm still kind of sleepy," He yawns, his ever tired eyes flickering shut for a moment.

"Well, that's great, Tweek. Now, go home." I say, yanking the bed sheets over my head. Why do I even associate with this nutcase.

"But… But, _Craig_," He sounds crestfallen. I've got to resist the urge to look up from under the covers, that's what he wants.

"Go. Home." I tell him sternly.

There's an insistent tugging on my Red Racer blankets and Tweek keeps whining like a dying dog. I wait it out for roughly three minutes before I cave and give in, lifting up the sheets and letting Tweek eagerly crawl under. He cuddles into my chest with a contented sound and I instinctively wrap my arms around him. Who in their right minds would refuse a cuddle? He nuzzles his nose into my neck and his wheat coloured hair tickles my face. I feel this weird warm feeling in my chest. "You wanna go back to sleep?" I ask him tiredly. I can avoid my parent's wrath a bit longer this way.

He looks up at me and nods, giving me one of his irresistible tiny smiles. In the spur of the moment and a second of irrational thought, I kiss him. But I'm glad, because he blush that spreads across his face afterwards is the cutest thing I've ever seen. The boy who likes to smash windows and steal my boxers is the cutest thing I've ever seen. He buries his head in the crook of my neck and we go to sleep together.

For all the fucked up stuff Tweek brings, I'm kind of glad I'm at the centre of it.

Even if it means he breaks into my house and steals my boxers.


End file.
